


Of Stars and Singularities

by Laelior



Series: Binary Star [3]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Multi, Unresolved grief, a date with the citadel doctor, literally dealing with baggage, shepard is background/flashbacks only, very flirty conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29498331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laelior/pseuds/Laelior
Summary: Two years after Alchera, Kaidan receives his marching orders for Horizon and he's forced to confront the rumors that Shepard is still alive.
Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard, Kaidan Alenko/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Binary Star [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196258
Comments: 12
Kudos: 7





	1. Marching Orders

_“Here, try this.” Beth held out a metal flask to him. It was cold enough by now that her breath fogged, small clouds passing ephemerally into the night air. The campfire crackled energetically, sending embers into the sky and occasionally wafting smoke at them when the wind changed direction. Moths fluttered overhead, occasionally daring to get close to the fire and risk singeing themselves. Half of him was baking due to the campfire, the other half was freezing in the crisp mountain air where the convective warming power of the fire ended._

_Kaidan sniffed at the flask before bringing it to his lips. Smoky, but that might have just been the campfire. He took a small sip. No, definitely not the campfire. The taste of smoke and peat filled his mouth until he almost coughed._

_“That’s, uh, well, that’s smoke forward,” he managed, handing the flask back to her and trying not to judge her shockingly poor taste in liquor. Her eyes danced merrily in the firelight, like twin stars in the night sky._

_“Burns a little, I know. I thought you liked whiskey.”_

_“Smooth whiskeys, not liquid smoke in a bottle.”_

_She took a sip for herself, and Kaidan felt a little vindicated when she grimaced, then coughed. “Not the smoothest, I’ll admit. Ugh, okay, it takes like all the bad decisions of my youth.”_

_Kaidan found himself chuckling. “I didn’t know bad decisions had a taste.”_

_“They do now.” She took another drink and coughed again. “Needs to age more, I think, but it’s from a new distillery on Mindoir so I wanted to try it.”_

_Ah. Well. In that case. He reached for the flask and took another sip for himself, this time managing to swallow it smoothly. “Scotch is an acquired taste, anyway.”_

_“Are you trying to acquire a taste for it, Alenko?” she asked, a coy smile forming on her lips._

_“Maybe,” he demurred, taking another slow, deliberate sip. “If bad decisions have a taste, maybe good ones do, too,” he mused aloud._

_“Oh, they definitely do,” She reached for the flask again, but he caught her arm and gently pulled her in closer so they were face to face, just inches apart. There was a heat in her eyes that rivaled the campfire, and he felt a matching heat rising in him. She slid her free arm around him and pulled herself in, practically sitting herself on his lap._

_“What do they taste like?” he asked, drawing her closer until his lips just grazed hers. Maybe it was the campfire, or the scotch, or just the feeling of her in his arms that made him feel light-headed, even giddy._

_She didn’t answer him directly. She showed him instead._

_She tasted of smoke and cinnamon._

* * *

Kaidan’s omni-tool pinged, snapping him out of his reverie. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. The elevator ride to the Presidium always took too damned long. It probably didn’t help that he was still somewhere between _SSV Stamford_ ’s Alliance standard 24-hour clock and Freedom’s Progress’s 21-hour day, not the galactic-standard clock used by the Citadel. It was close to midnight on the frigate, but early afternoon on the Citadel.

His omni-tool pinged again, seemingly irritated he’d ignored it before. He sighed and glanced down at his omni-tool’s holo-display, only to feel the edges up his mouth tugging up into a smile and the tiredness fading a little when he read the message on it.

_You’re supposed to get back today, right?_ The text popped up in his personal display, accompanied by a thumbnail-sized picture portrait of a handsome man in his mid-thirties with the text _Fuentes, T, M.D._ floating under it.

_That’s the rumor_ , Kaidan sent back.

_Feeling up for drinks tonight?_ Fuentes, T, M.D. sent back in a matter of seconds. 

_Heading into a meeting now. Don’t know how long it will take. Ping you later?_ Kaidan typed in reply. It didn’t take long for an answer to arrive.

_Sure thing. Don’t keep me waiting too long._

_Won’t. See you later, usual spot?_

_Sounds good._

Just as he started to close his messages, another ping vibrated his omni-tool. He paused to read the news alert that had popped into his feed, scanning just the first few words of the article headline.

_Dead or Alive? TRS Report: New Sightings Fuel Rumors…._

He dismissed the alert with a flick of his hand without reading the rest

A trash article from a trash tabloid.

He closed his omni-tool just as the elevator came to a stop, doors sliding open to the pristine, shallow beauty of the Presidium. Water splashed calmly down from the central fountain and a gentle, artificially generated breeze teased at his hair. Over the past two years most of the plants had grown back, lovingly tended to by an army of gardeners. He could barely even see the burn scars on some of the trees anymore. 

His eyes strayed, as they always did, to a young pine sapling on the greenway near the lake. A Mindoir hemlock pine. He’d been there when it was planted on the one-year anniversary of the Battle of the Citadel. The first tree from a human colony on the Citadel.

He tore his eyes away and walked past the tree and toward the embassy suites. 

“Commander Alenko,” the asari receptionist looked up from her terminal with a warm smile as he approached. “I saw you were on the admiral’s schedule today. Welcome back.”

“Nesira,” Kaidan greeted her back with a smile of his own. “How’s Tahan? About ready to pop, right?”

Nesira laughed. “Any day now. They’re ready for the baby to be here, but I’m trying to enjoy my sleep while it lasts. Oh, and thank you for the baby gifts! Tahan wanted me to pass that on to you.”

“Glad you both liked them. Sorry I couldn’t make the baby shower.” He remembered feeling simultaneously baffled and honored that Nesira and her spouse, an old Alliance friend, had invited him to celebrate their growing family. He’d had to ask his mother for advice on what to get for them.

“I don’t know if human babies are like asari, but what I’ve read on the extranet is making me second-guess our decision to have them carry our first child. Is it true they don’t sleep more than a few hours?”

“Uhh,” Kaidan blinked, caught off guard at the unexpected question. “You know, I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been around too many babies, human or otherwise. Much to my mother’s dismay,” he added with a wry chuckle. He glanced past her to the hallway off behind her. “Is Anderson in?”

Nesira’s smile instantly froze a little around the edges. “He is, but he’s in a last-minute meeting with the Councilor.”

“Ah.” Kaidan’s good mood from the pleasant banter faltered. “Did he mention how long it would take?”

“The Councilor rarely does.” There was the smallest hint of irritation behind the polite façade. “But...I think the admiral wouldn’t mind if you happened to knock on the door before they’re finished.”

Kaidan snorted under his breath. “Thanks, Nesira. Make sure to tell Tahan I said hi.”

“Of course. Have a pleasant day, Commander.”

Kaidan waved casually as he went past her desk and up the stairs to Anderson’s office. He paused just outside the door, listening for a moment. Muffled voices carried through the door, overlapping each other and rising in intensity. Two people having an argument. He pressed the chime next to the door and the voices abated slightly. The door made a pleasant two-note chime and slid open.

Inside the office, Anderson and Udina stood facing off against each other across the large desk in the center of the room. Udina had his back to the door. He was hunched over the desk, both hands clenched in fists and planted on the desk. Anderson stood with his arms folded in front of him like a great, immovable boulder in crisp Alliance blues in the face of Udina’s aggravation. Anderson’s gaze flicked from Udina over to him. His arms relaxed and went to his side.

“Commander Alenko. Please, come in. We were just finishing up.” Anderson’s eyes landed back on Udina, clearly hoping the Councilor would take the hint.

“Admiral Anderson, sir!” Kaidan said, pulling his heels together and putting his hand on his brow in a formal parade-ground salute. It was a juvenile impulse, one designed to further annoy the Councilor. Udina’s shoulders heaved in an irritated huff. 

“This isn’t over, Anderson. We’ll talk later,” Udina threatened. The Councilor straightened his shoulders stalked out of the office. Kaidan held his salute as Udina brushed past him.

“Alenko,” he said with a stiff nod as he passed.

Once the door closed behind him, Anderson gave an exasperated sigh and casually returned the salute. Kaidan let his hand fall to his side. 

“At ease, Alenko. Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to a set of chairs arranged near a low table with datapads piled high on it.

“Do I even want to know what that was about, sir?” Kaidan asked as he settled into one of the chairs. Anderson sat back tiredly in the chair next to his.

“The usual,” Anderson said with a half-shrug. “I’m not sorry I didn’t get the job, but sometimes….” He trailed off with an understated grunt. “He has humanity’s best interests at heart, even if he is a pain in the ass. But enough about that. I take it your return trip from Freedom’s Progress was uneventful?”

“Exceedingly.” Kaidan pulled out a datapad from his pocket and laid it on top of the others on the table. “My mission report, sir.”

“I’ll read the full report when I have the time.” Anderson picked the pad up and laid it off to the side with a smaller stack of pads, clearly marking it as a higher priority than whatever other business was on the table. “I received some new intel that I want your eyes on, Commander, but first I want to hear your impressions of Freedom’s Progress.”

“It was...strange. Really strange, sir.” Kaidan frowned. He’d written all this up already in his reports on the disappeared colony, but very little of it made sense to him. “It was like the reports I read of the other missing colonies. No trace of the colonists. Like they simply disappeared. Except….”

“Except what?”

“Except there were mechs. Looked like someone fought their way through them to a bunker after the colonists disappeared, then left. All of the security systems were disabled. Liang, that’s the forensic specialist I mentioned in the report, she found some boot prints and thinks it’s evidence for quarians and some humans or asari involved in the fighting.”

“That is _damn_ strange.”

Kaidan shrugged helplessly. He’d been puzzling it over the entire return trip, but there was no explanation that made sense to him to rationalize both the disappeared colonists and the apparent firefight afterward. Of the disappeared colonies he’d seen or read about in highly classified reports, this one bothered him the most for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“You said you had new intel, sir?” Kaidan asked before he could get too lost in all of the things that bothered him about Freedom’s Progress.

“I’ll get to that in a moment. Can I offer you a drink first, son? You look like you could use one.” Anderson turned and reached behind him to grab a decanter of rich amber liquid and two glasses. Kaidan started to shake his head, but then decided it would be impolite to turn his superior officer down when he was the one who clearly needed a drink. Anderson seemed to take his silence for assent, poured a finger in each glass, and handed one to Kaidan.

He sniffed at the alcohol before taking a small sip. Smooth, rich, and a little smoky with a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste. It shouldn’t surprise him that Anderson had good taste. Having taken a sip to be polite, he set it down on the table and waited for Anderson. The admiral, instead of sipping it like a good Scotch deserved, knocked back the glass in one gulp and shook his head vigorously. Kaidan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Never let yourself get wrangled into politics, son,” Anderson said wearily. 

“I’ll try my best, sir.”

“Now, I know you just got back, Alenko, but I need to send you back out.” Anderson reached into the smaller piles of datapads and handed him one with an Alliance stamp on it. The words CLASSIFIED X, BIOMETRIC LOCK were printed across the screen in bold scarlet letters. Kaidan put his thumbprint on it and an image of an Earth-like world popped up in place of the red text.

“Horizon?” He asked, scanning the first few lines. “A Terminus colony? 

“I got a….call it a tip it might be the next colony hit. You’ll report to Captain Calloway on the _SSV Lagos_ tomorrow morning to ship out.”

“A cruiser, sir? For transport to a backwater colony?”

“Officially, you’ll be there to oversee the install of a new defense system, which the cruiser is there to transport. The locals reluctantly agreed to it after word about Freedom’s Progress got there.” 

“And unofficially?”

“It might be an opportunity to see if Cerberus is behind these attacks,” Anderson said. Kaidan narrowed his eyes. There was something about the way he said it, something about the way Anderson wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, that set off alarm bells in his head.

“What aren’t you telling me, sir?”

Anderson paused, and Kaidan could practically see him searching for words, the orders that wouldn’t be in the brief, that would give him some amount of plausible deniability. His shoulders tensed as the feeling that Anderson was going to drop two shoes at once loomed

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors by now, son,” Anderson said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Kaidan let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in a slow hiss and the knot in his stomach became more like a fist. After months of stonewalling, he was starting to see the destination at the end of the subtle breadcrumb trail Anderson had laid out for him.

“I...I understand, sir,” he said, looking down at the pad in his hands but not really seeing it. Anderson leaned across to place a hand on his shoulder that was anything but comforting. Kaidan reached for the glass again. His hand didn’t shake at all. He knocked back the rest of the scotch in one gulp and it stung like rubbing alcohol on a fresh wound.

“You’re the best man for the job, Commander, or I wouldn’t be asking you to do this,” he said compassionately. He gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, then let go. “Now, let’s hear the rest of your report on Freedom’s Progress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://laelior.tumblr.com/)!


	2. The Citadel Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaidan goes on a date with the Citadel doctor.

The rest of the meeting was more or less a normal debrief, allowing Kaidan to reclaim his sense of balance.

He stopped by his Alliance housing apartment just long enough to drop off his mission brief and change into some civilian clothes. The picture frame on his desk lit up when he was close enough to activate the built-in motion sensor. He set the datapad down next to it and absently wiped off the thin layer of dust that had gathered on it during his brief sojourn to Freedom’s Progress, ignoring the dust gathered elsewhere on the desk.

Then he left and caught a skycar to Tayseri ward, sending off a hasty ping on his omni-tool along the way.

The entrance to the club was lit in harsh neon colors with letters that rearranged themselves periodically into the languages of various species from across the galaxy. While he watched, they flew around and formed themselves into the words  _ salon de poussière d'étoiles _ , and from there into the more familiar English  _ Stardust Lounge _ . A subtle bass beat filled the air, as did the alluring smells of food and alcohol.

It was still early enough that the evening crowds hadn’t filed in yet, making it easy to find a high table with two long-legged stools around it off to the side. The music, some modern mellow beat, was low enough to encourage conversation, and the lights were warm and subtle.

It was, in all, one of the more agreeable clubs in the Citadel to take a casual date.

A small terminal on the table interfaced directly with his omni-tool to bring up a menu, allowing him to place an order from the establishment’s extensive beer, wine, and liquor list. It was another reason this place appealed to him.

Rumor had it that a human diplomat with a hobby for homebrew had snuck some hops vines into the Presidium gardens. She’d been caught by a salarian groundskeeper, who decided to turn a blind eye instead of arresting her for misuse of Citadel resources. Something about the hops growing in the Citadel’s lower gravity gave the resulting beer a richer, more interesting flavor. The human diplomat and the salarian groundskeeper now had a lucrative side business selling their First Contact IPA to a handful of restaurants and clubs on the Citadel. Word was they were working on developing a dextro version of it to further expand the market. 

Kaidan had been on a waitlist for months to buy a mini-keg to send back home to his father, a true IPA aficionado.

But evidently Stardust Lounge didn’t have the same issue that a mere citizen like him did. Before long an asari waitress came by with two frosty pint glasses and set them down on the table in front of him. 

Kaidan slowly sipped his beer, savoring the rich taste of it, while he waited. He brought up his omni-tool and searched for information about Horizon. Once again, he was struck by how ordinary the colony was. It was a little more populous than most other Terminus colonies, probably owing to the Earth-compatible biosphere. The measures taken to prevent Earth crops from overtaking the native plantlife ensured that the big Agri-Bio companies had a vested interest in it. But nothing about the planet, or the colony it housed, seemed all that remarkable.

So what would motivate some unknown entity to strike at it?

Were the rumors of Cerberus activity out in the Terminus systems somehow connected?

And, the real question in his mind, was—

“Planning your next vacation?” A soft baritone voice cut a welcome distraction across his thoughts. Kaidan grinned and closed his omni-tool.

“Something like that.”

“Been waiting long?” The owner of the baritone voice placed a friendly peck on his cheek before sliding into the seat across from him. Kaidan pushed the second pint glass toward him.

“A few minutes. You come here straight from the clinic?” He asked, noting the green-and-white scrubs he wore.

“I know, I’m overdressed for a place like this,” he said humorously. “I had a last-minute client show up so I didn’t have time to change before coming here.”

“I’m glad you could make it, Taylor.” Kaidan reached across the table and squeezed his hand, then let go. Four—or was it five now?—dates in, and making time to spend chatting with Taylor when he was on the Citadel was one of the more pleasant habits he found himself forming. He radiated a sense of good humor and warmth that never failed to put him at ease. Taylor had been surprisingly understanding about his frequent absences and willing to pick up where they left off whenever Kaidan returned. 

And patient. So very patient with how slowly he allowed himself to become involved in a new relationship, which only made it even easier to enjoy Taylor’s company without the pressure of taking the next step.

“What’s the word? How long are you back for this time?” Taylor asked as he settled in with his drink. He took a slow appreciative sip of the beer and

“I’m shipping out again tomorrow,” Kaidan said, resigned to his marching orders.

“Already? You just got back.”

“You can take it up with my CO, if you want,” Kaidan replied, only mostly joking. 

“Think I’ll pass on that.” Taylor said dubiously. “Where are you headed this time?”

“Can’t say.” Kaidan shrugged.

“Can’t because you don’t know, or can’t because you  _ can’t _ .” Taylor raised a brow over his drink.

“Can’t can’t.” Kaidan shook his head, once again appreciating Taylor’s understanding nature. There was so much he’d seen, so much he’d  _ done _ that he could never talk about without breaking at least a dozen laws and setting the regs on fire. But if that bothered him, he didn’t show it.

“The unflappable man of galactic mystery rides off into the sunset again, you mean.”

“Something like that,” Kaidan chuckled. 

“You need me to look in on your plant again?” Taylor lifted an eyebrow like he’d just said something suggestive. Kaidan grinned into his beer.

“Thanks, but it should be fine this time. I gave Rufus the Jade plant away to a better home, to someone who’s actually around to care for it,” Kaidan said, then added, “You just want an excuse to rifle through my drawers while I’m gone, don’t you?”

“And cry myself to sleep on your pillows each night while helplessly pining away,” he replied without missing a beat. “I guess I should probably feel flattered you made time for me tonight.”

“You should. I’m a very busy man,” Kaidan said, trying to sound as self-important as possible.

“You joke, but you really need to take better care of yourself, Kaidan. Get more sleep, take more breaks, or you’ll end up back at my clinic with more migraines.” The joking tone was gone, replaced by the gentle, chiding bedside manner of a doctor.

“Doctor’s orders?” Kaidan asked, taking a long, slow sip of his drink.

“A friendly suggestion,” Taylor responded, then added after a moment’s thought, “It would be inappropriate for me to be out having drinks with a patient, anyway. Unless doctor-patient roleplay is your thing.”

Kaidan’s mouthful of beer came into sudden conflict with the startled laugh that got out of him, resulting in him half-spitting, half-coughing it back into the glass. He set the glass down on the table and grabbed a napkin to dab off the rather undignified goatee of suds he now sported.

“Ah, so the unflappable man is, in fact, flappable.” Taylor’s sly smile grew into a wicked grin that made Kaidan’s heart skip a beat. 

“Is ‘flappable’ a word? I don’t know if it’s really a word,” Kaidan said, wiping down the drops of beer that managed to get onto his shirt and the table. 

“Ha! The words of man who doesn’t have a witty retort.” Taylor’s eyes sparkled in mischievous triumph.

“You’re not wrong there.” Kaidan laughed, managing to take a more dignified sip from his glass.

“You should be flapped more often. It’s a good look on you.” Taylor turned his head slightly to the side to deliver a devious sidelong glance.

“Are you coming on to me, Dr. Fuentes?” Kaidan asked slowly, knowing full well that he was. He leaned over the table toward him and reached a hand across. Taylor laid his hand over Kaidan’s and lightly moved his thumb back and forth across the back of his hand. 

“Depends. Any interest, Commander Alenko?”

It was a small amount of tension around his eyes, a slight hunch of his shoulders that gave it away. Taylor, who never failed to project a sense of smooth self-assurance, was  _ nervous _ . It was something he’d never seen in him before. 

Kaidan licked his lips, suddenly self-conscious about how dry they were, and met Taylor’s gaze. He never failed to find his eyes startling, an unusual shade of light green-brown hazel with flecks of dark brown in them. He could easily fall into those eyes, eyes that look at him with an uncomplicated  _ want _ he’d hadn’t seen in a long time.

He leaned in closer, his heart fluttering giddily in his throat. Maybe he  _ was _ ready to take that next step. Taylor squeezed his hand and moved in to close the gap between them.

And suddenly Kaidan yawned right his face.

He pulled back to cover his yawn with his other hand, then burst out in a chuckle. “Sorry. It’s pretty late for me.”

“Glad you cleared that up. I’d hate to think my attempt to seduce you was that boring,” Taylor laughed. 

“Rain check? I have to get to packing, anyway.” Kaidan opened up his omni-tool to settle the tab for their drinks. 

“Mmm-hmm. Gotta get ol’ Grandpa Alenko here to bed early tonight.” Taylor finished the last swallow of beer in his glass and set it down on the table. “Walk you to your skycar?”

“Glad to have the company.” 

Taylor loosely laid a hand on Kaidan’s elbow as they walked past the growing nighttime crowds to the nearest taxi terminal, chatting amiably. As always, he had more than his fair share of amusing stories about the clients who patronized his clinic.

“...so then Kruhl, he looks at the hanar and tells him, ‘You’re gonna put that syringe down or you’ll be figuring out how to walk without those tentacles’,” Taylor’s voice grew deeper and rougher in imitation of the clinic’s krogan bouncer. “Don’t know if he knew that they use a mass effect field to get around, but damned if the hanar didn’t immediately drop it….”

Kaidan listened to the story, chuckling at appropriate moments, when a small movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention through the passing crowds.

Alliance uniform. Green eyes. Dark hair bound up in a tight bun. A red-and-black N7 pin stood out boldly on her chest underneath the Alliance stars-and-bars emblem. 

She offered him a crisp, formal salute.

“Are you ready to explore the galaxy and protect humanity’s interests? Are you ready to become who you were meant to be?” Triumphant, brassy music swelled over a nearby speaker. “The Systems Alliance wants  _ you _ . Contact Alliance recruiters in Aroch Ward today.”

Then she was gone, and the words  _ Ad Astra, Per Aspera _ floated in her place.

Kaidan breathed a soft sigh. 

“It must hurt, doesn’t it?” Taylor said quietly from his side. Belatedly, Kaidan realized they’d stopped walking. He shook his head and consciously refocused his attention.

“It’s just a recruiting poster. I’ve seen them a few times on the Citadel now,” Kaidan replied, turning back in the direction of the taxi terminal.

Taylor didn’t move, just giving him a quiet, measured look. “I’m not blind, Kaidan. I’ve dated soldiers before. But I don’t think I’ve ever dated one before who had a picture of their old CO on their desk.”

Kaidan smothered a small flicker of irritation. “It’s nothing,” he said, then when Taylor gave him an utterly unconvinced look he added, “This isn’t something I want to talk about right now.”

“Kaidan, I know there’s nothing serious between us, but I think we can at least be honest with each other. Whatever she was to you, it was  _ something _ , and you’re carrying it around like a planet-sized weight.” Taylor stood rooted in his spot, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Tay….” Kaidan rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he could rewind the last few minutes, just walk on by the recruiting ad without getting stuck on seeing  _ her _ , to not be having this conversation right now, of all times.

“I’m not judging you for your grief. I know it can’t be easy when there’s constant reminders haunting you.” Taylor gestured at the Alliance ad still displaying the Latin motto on it. “All I’m asking for is some honesty.”

“I ship out in the morning,” he said as tiredly as he felt, then turned and walked the rest of the way to the taxi alone. He didn’t look back, not wanting to see the hurt he’d inevitably inflicted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, Taylor kinda wrote himself into existence in this chapter.


	3. Baggage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaidan deals with his baggage. Literally.

Packing for missions was a familiar routine by now after a year of working under Anderson. He didn’t even need to think about it anymore.

He took care of the administrative business first: making sure his will and advanced directives were up to date, and writing a letter to his parents to be sent on a just-in-case basis. It was all formulaic, paint-by-the-numbers kind of business.

Next, he considered the contents of the shoebox-sized apartment and what to pack. The trip to Freedom’s Progress had been short, only requiring an overnight bag. The assignment to Horizon would last anywhere from a few weeks to a few months.

He started going through the usual checklist in his head. His armor and service weapons were still on the _Stamford_ and would be shipped directly to the _Lagos_. That just left clothes, toiletries, and personal items. He started pulling clothes from the dresser, neatly folding them, and placing them in his duffel. 

There was comfort in routine, a soothing rhythm that brought a sense of normalcy to the inherent chaos his job brought into his life. Fold the clothes, roll them tightly to save space, place them in the bag. Bundle socks in the gaps between clothing rolls. Lather, rinse, repeat. He let his hands take care of the work while his mind wandered.

 _And if the rumors are true?_

A weight settled in the pit of his stomach, pulling tension in from his shoulders while a mild, familiar throb began to pulse in his temples. No aura clouded his vision, but that it was a run-of-the-mill headache and not a migraine didn’t make him feel any better.

He stopped folding clothes to rub his temples, finding little relief in the applied pressure. It was late, and he was too tired. He should have cancelled his plans with Taylor, focused on getting ready for the mission. Not gotten distracted by—

_Focus on the mission._

What little he knew about Horizon was what he’d read in the mission brief. It had warned him that he wouldn’t receive a warm welcome as an Alliance officer, but that he could expect cooperation on the defense installation. There was nothing special about the colony to suggest why it could be the next in line to disappear. But then, none of the other disappeared colonies had been particularly special, either.

Clothes finished, then on to toiletries, migraine meds, other essentials. A few pads loaded with books and the latest vids went into the bag, too, since he couldn’t expect much in the way of social activities with the locals. He’d likely have to find his own entertainment off-hours instead of integrating with the locals.

His omni-tool buzzed with a new message. He opened it up despite the sudden tightness in his throat, half-expecting it to be from Taylor.

_Council Spectre, Missing and Presumed Dead, Sighted in Terminus Systems: A Citadel Enquirer Exclusive_

A hot spark of irritation flared up in him. He flicked his omni-tool to silent mode, then grabbed the few last pairs of white, Alliance-issue socks in his drawer and chucked them into his bag. He yanked a decidedly less Alliance-issue knit sweater from the closet in case his quarters there were cold and threw that in, too. Almost all packed.

The last thing he put in the bag was always the picture. He picked it up from its spot on his desk and stopped to consider it.

She smirked at him with one her lopsided half-smiles from behind the glass frame, leaning against the railings in the Upper Wards near the large observation windows. The Serpent Nebula bathed her in a muted blue and purple glow. The top few buttons of her Alliance dress blues were unclasped, allowing the top of her white undershirt to peek through. Dark hair tumbled down her back, freshly freed from its usual tight bun and framing her face in soft shadows. 

_Are you taking a picture of me, Alenko?_

_If that’s alright with you._

_Be sure to get my good side, then._

_Is there a bad side? They all look good to me from here._

_Stick around and you might find out._

She seemed to meet his eyes through the glass, looking so warm and alive that even the frame felt warm under his touch. How many times had he wanted to reach through the glass and touch her, to have the feel of her skin under his hand just one more time? 

That night, after the Alliance had awarded her the Star of Terra in front of a delegation of Council races on the Citadel. She’d hated it, the endless smiling and shaking of hands, the political messaging that made the medal ceremony secondary to the night’s purpose. They’d snuck out the moment she was no longer needed and went for drinks at Flux.

That night, when he’d told her he loved her, whispered against her ear when they went to admire the nebula views, right after taking the picture. She’d kissed him, heedless of who might have seen them out in public like that. The warm press of her lips against his was a memory that he’d preserved in perfect detail, a picture of a different kind. They’d stayed the night in a hotel on Zakera ward, giving themselves a brief indulgence before slipping back into the professional masks that their roles and the regs demanded of them.

A few months later she was dead.

She’d been a star, burning bright and hot across the horizon, pulling him inexorably into her orbit through the sheer gravity of her presence. And like all luminous stars, she’d burned out too quickly, going out in an extinction burst that flared across his universe and left his sky a little darker.

And now maybe she wasn’t dead.

That brief time they had together—little more than a flicker against the lifetime of a star—it had meant everything to him. He’d thrown caution, and the regs, to the wind for her, knowing that whatever consequences came from it would be worth it to him. He’d thought it had meant something to her, too. Maybe it hadn’t.

It was hard to argue with two years of silence from a supposedly dead woman.

He placed the photo back on his desk, face down. He’d packed enough baggage for this assignment already.

He tugged on the duffel’s magnetic seal, but it caught and jammed on the sweater halfway across the top. He pushed it down, but the seal refused to budge. 

_Fuck._

He’d packed these items, minus the picture, so many times in this same bag, always with room to spare. He pulled the seal back. Instead of neatly folded clothes there was a jumbled pile thrown haphazardly in the bag. He sighed and emptied the bag’s contents out onto his bed and started over again, taking more care this time and not letting stray thoughts make him sloppy.

By the time he finished the task, a sense of profound exhaustion settled heavily on his shoulders. He sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, and rested his forehead on his palms while his temples continued to throb. 

Two years. He’d spent two years working on moving on.

There’d been no time to grieve. No funeral or official closure when the Alliance and Council both downplayed her death. No one to turn to to talk without admitting what she’d been to him, not even the Alliance-mandated grief counselor he’d briefly seen after losing her. He’d worked through it, and for almost a year he’d been able to think of her without the clench of grief in his gut that stole his breath and made the universe momentarily stop.

Then the rumors had started.

In her absence, she was a singularity. Everywhere he turned she was still there, exerting a pull he couldn’t escape no matter how far he went. Every recruiting ad, every whispered rumor, every headline snagged at his edges and kept him snared on her horizon. That place in his heart he’d reserved for her had gradually eroded and the gaps filled in with a tangled web of grief and guilt and anger. 

And if the rumors were true….

If Anderson’s intel was good….

Kaidan lifted up his head and reached over to his desk to pick up the photo again. The frame felt cold in his hands, and her gaze seemed to look past him rather than directly at him this time. 

Whatever he felt for her, complicated as it was, wasn’t a switch he could turn off any more than he could turn off the sun. Wherever she was now, alive or lost somewhere in the remorseless void of space, he had to deal with the thorny legacy left in her wake.

And that meant owning up to his own failure to recognize that, and trying to right a wrong for someone who deserved better than to be hurt by his own inner conflicts.

The picture went back to his desk, face up and not among the belongings going with him to Horizon. He fired up his omni-tool and wrote up a quick message.

_Taylor,_

_I’m sorry about earlier. You were right. There’s still some stuff I’m working through._

_I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’d like a chance to talk again when I do, if you want to see me._

_Take care of yourself,_

_Kaidan._

He logged the message in his outgoing queue and set it to send in the morning when he got underway on the _Lagos_. 

Whether the rumors were true or not, whether the woman he’d loved was still out there in some form, the galaxy had to keep spinning and he still had a job to do. At the end of the day, there was nothing left to do but move forward. The only thing Kaidan could do was choose how he did so. 

Kaidan straightened his shoulders. He’d always prided himself in at least trying to do the right thing. He could do less now, no matter what waited for him on Horizon.

At the end of the day, that was what mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the whole-ass reason for this fic. The idea started with "what if Kaidan had a picture of Shepard on his desk just like Shepard does of him?" Everything else was just leading to this point, and him dealing with how complicated it is to love a ghost.
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://laelior.tumblr.com/)!

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://laelior.tumblr.com/)!


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